


all the devils are here

by UnrememberedSkies



Series: Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Angst, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Ben and Klaus Against the World, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Brother Ben Hargreeves, Good Brother Luther Hargreeves, Horror, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Mild Gore, Monsters, Possessive Eldritch, Protective Ben Hargreeves, The Little Girl on the Bicycle, Trauma, other dimensions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-12 00:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnrememberedSkies/pseuds/UnrememberedSkies
Summary: “I think the reason that creature found it so easy to attach itself to you is because your connection with the mortal world is so tenuous,” he says, meeting Klaus’s eyes. There are other reasons, certainly, but this is one Klaus can fix himself. The others… well, Ben will have to find a way.Ben searches for answers in hostile dimensions as Klaus withdraws further from the living.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A direct sequel to 'hell is empty'. This probably won't make much sense without reading that first. My little baby monster fic has mutated, that's the only explanation I can give for this. Title is from The Tempest.

Klaus sleeps for twenty-four hours. Ben and the Eldritch keep watch.

It is seven hours before Ben manages to convince the Eldritch to let go of Klaus, for those tentacles to unwind from their possessive grip and retreat into Ben’s stomach. Ben can feel them grumbling beneath the surface, unsettled and ready to emerge once more. He folds his arms over his midriff, as though that would be able to stop them.

He watches Klaus sleep, notes the creases in his forehead from time to time, and stares at him until he convinces himself that it is bad dream and not another unwelcome visitor. The Eldritch hum in approval of his vigilance. Ben tries to ignore them.

He doesn’t know exactly what the other siblings are doing. He hopes Diego is getting the wound in his thigh seen to, hopes Vanya has washed the parasite’s blood off her face. He wonders if they have cleared the body of the creature, thinks they should probably burn it. Monsters are hard to kill. He should know. He may be dead, but the Eldritch live on. 

Death has taught him many things, not least among them is patience. Klaus will wake, but for now he needs to heal. 

There is a knock on the door of the spare room they have occupied, and Ben almost tells whoever it is to ‘come in’ before he realises that no one can hear him. The door opens, and Luther pokes his head in, his eyes immediately falling on Klaus’s prone form on the bed. He looks a little relieved, and Ben realises it is because the last time he looked in, Klaus was still in the tangle of the Eldritch’s tentacles, a butterfly caught in a steel trap.

Luther comes into the room, glances around, before deciding to focus his gaze on a spot two metres to Ben’s left. “Uh, Ben, I know you’re still keeping watch but… we just wanted to check, see if he’s all right.”

He looks like he’s waiting for permission, even though it is something Ben can’t give, much as he wants to. Luther hovers, as much as someone of his size can hover, before he appears to take the absence of manifested tentacles as a sign to proceed. He crosses the room and kneels down at Klaus’s bedside, watching the rise and fall of his skinny chest, before putting a huge gloved hand on his forehead.

“I can’t believe that thing was inside of him,” he says, in a hushed voice.

“Me neither,” whispers Ben, guilt fighting for space in his stomach alongside the Eldritch.

“I guess we have to hope it didn’t do any permanent damage. But we’re not going to know until he wakes up. If Mom was here, she could run some diagnostics…”

Mom is buried under a pile of rubble in another timeline, Pogo impaled on a set of antlers. They are alone, and woefully unequipped to deal with this kind of thing. Even if Luther could hear him, Ben doesn’t think he would have anything helpful to offer.

“What you did, Ben, was incredible,” Luther is saying, looking at the wrong spot again. “I hope you’re okay.”

Ben doesn’t feel particularly incredible, nor is he okay, but he tells a lie no one hears anyway. “I’m okay.”

Luther stands. “I’ll leave you two alone. But… we’d like to keep checking in on him… if that’s all right.” Ben watches open mouthed as Luther gives an awkward smile, then ducks out of the room. He’s treating him with deference, Ben realises, deference born of fear. The thought leaves a sour taste in Ben’s mouth. The Eldritch shift contentedly at being recognised as the apex predator they are.

It is late the next evening when Klaus finally awakes, fluttering dark eyelashes and a exhausted moan alerting Ben. He goes to sit on the edge of the bed, watching as Klaus forces his eyelids open, sticky with sleep.

“Good evening, sunshine,” Ben says, smiling softly.

“Good morning, midnight,” Klaus mumbles, inhaling deeply and releasing it in an exhausted sigh. “How long was I out?”

“About twenty-four hours. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Klaus says immediately. 

Ben gives him a sympathetic smile. Klaus pulls himself into a slightly more upright position, slumped against the headboard for support. His eyeliner is smudged beneath his eyes and his skin is pale, giving him a skull-like look. His eyes bore into Ben, increasingly alert. Ben shifts, uncomfortable. “What do you remember?”

Klaus shrugs. “Bits and pieces. Did I hurt anyone?”

Ben wonders how Diego is. He hasn’t left Klaus’s side and Luther hadn’t told him. “They’ll be fine.”

Klaus raises an eyebrow. “That’s a bit of a non-answer, Benny-boy. What happened?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Ben repeated. “Did I hurt you?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Klaus said, shuffling up even further to wag his finger at Ben like a disapproving schoolteacher. “I’m not answering that until you answer me.”

Ben sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “You stabbed Diego, when that creature was controlling you. I’m sure he’s fine,” he adds quickly, seeing Klaus’s face. “I think you missed the femoral artery.”

“You think?” Klaus repeats. “You mean you don’t know?”

“I haven’t left your side,” Ben admits, “I was worried.” Klaus takes a shuddering breath, then pulls the blanket back and swings his legs over the side. “What are you doing?”

Klaus gives him a wet-eyed look. “I need to see if he’s okay.”

“You should rest,” says Ben, holding out his hands to try and stop Klaus from going any further. “Stay in bed, I’ll go look.”

It is a testament to how bad Klaus is still feeling that he gives in with very little fight. He slumps where he’s sat, nodding slightly. Ben ushers him back into bed before he leaves to find Diego, making him swear not to get out of bed again.

Once Klaus is safely tucked back in, Ben phases through the house, looking for his other siblings. He heads down to the kitchen first, finds the place covered in clear plastic, Five is stood at the table before the parasite, wearing rubber gloves and an apron. He is scraping off a sample of the oil-black exoskeleton into a petri dish, looking far too gleeful at his new project than is strictly appropriate. Ben lingers, watching his progress, making a note to find out more about his discoveries when Klaus is up and healthy. 

Remembering he made a promise to Klaus, he drifts up through the house in search of Diego. He hears voices in the living room, raised, of course, because it’s them.

“-don’t think it’s any of our business.” Diego’s voice, he’s well enough to argue, then. Klaus will be pleased. Ben crosses through the wall, ignoring the open door next to him.

“Of course it’s our business!” Allison says, her arms folded, stood beneath the empty space where their father’s portrait used to be. “We’re family. We said we’d look out for each other.”

“Seems a bit underhand to me,” says Diego. He is lying on the couch, trying to look intimidating, but not succeeding. “If we’re going to be reading private stuff about them, they should at least be here to see it first.”

“Yeah, things don’t go too well when we hide things from each other,” Vanya says pointedly. She’s curled up in an armchair, expression unreadable.

That stops Allison for a second, as it always does when Vanya brings up what happened. Ben has started to realise that Vanya uses it strategically – what her words lack in volume is made up for in the weightiness of the subject matter. Allison bites her lip. “I know that, Vanya,” she says, her voice softer now. “And I’m not saying we go behind their back. But I think we need to get a jump on this before we have any more nasty surprises.”

The others are silent, ruminating on the thought. Luther clears his throat, glancing between the siblings. “So it seems that there’s more to Klaus’s – and Ben’s – powers than any of us realised. I think we need to deal with this… sensitively” He glances at Vanya, who pretends not to notice. “So they don’t think we think they’re the enemy.”

“And why would they think that?” Diego asks, sharply. “Unless someone made them think that.”

“Look,” hisses Luther, clearly trying very hard to raise his voice, “I’m trying my best here. Can you try not being an asshole for five minutes?”

“It’s just that you don’t have the best track record with this kind of thing, big boy.”

Ben sees Vanya roll her eyes and he smirks a little. “Can we focus?” she says.

“Yeah, maybe we can have one conversation without the dick waving?” Allison puts in.

“Unlikely, Allison. Have you met Luther and Diego?” comes a voice from the doorway. Ben turns with the rest of them, too caught up in the conversation to notice they had an audience.

“Klaus!” Multiple voices speak at once. Klaus stands in the doorway, leaning heavily against the doorframe, a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“You were taking too long,” Klaus says, looking at Ben. It’s almost comical the way four heads move as one in the direction of where Ben is standing, and he enjoys watching the realisation dawn on their faces.

“Ben’s here?” Allison asks, looking embarrassed.

“I sent him down to check on Diego. Obviously, he got distracted eavesdropping.”

This time it’s Ben’s turn to feel embarrassed, cheeks heating. “Thanks, man.”

Klaus gives him a shrug, before stepping into the room, unsteady as a baby deer.

Diego makes a move to get up from the settee, but Allison waves him aside as she goes to their brother, offering him her arm to lean on. 

“I thought I told you not to get up,” says Ben, watching as Allison guides him to the settee opposite Diego.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be long,” Klaus retorts, before his gaze falls on Diego. “Are you okay?”

Diego grins. “Not even my first stab wound this year.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Klaus looks stricken, on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry,” he says, in a tiny voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” Diego says firmly. “That creature did. And it hurt you, too, so you don’t need to apologise.”

Klaus ducks his head, looking at his knees. Ben can see a mirror of his own guilt reflected in Klaus. He sits down next to his brother, so Klaus has one less pair of eyes fixed on him as he tries to pull himself together.

“We wanted to ask you about that, actually,” Luther says, and Ben sees Allison, who is stood by Klaus’s side with her hand on his shoulder, shoot him a warning look. They seem to have a rapid-fire conversation through looks alone, but ultimately Luther barrels on regardless. “We want to find out more about what happened, so it doesn’t happen again, and hurt you, or anyone else.” Klaus hunches in on himself even further. “Do you know what it was? Where it came from?”

Klaus shakes his head tightly, not looking up. Ben aches to touch him, place a steadying hand on his back or thigh.

“Does Ben?”

Isn’t that the question? Ben is almost glad they can’t see or hear him. He doesn’t feel prepared to answer. Neither, it seems, does Klaus. He shakes his head again.

“Luther,” Diego says, “let it go.”

Luther shuts his mouth, although he doesn’t look happy. They sit in silence as Klaus collects himself. Finally, he raises his head, face set, although his tell-tale lower lip quivers. “I just came down to see if everyone was okay,” he says, “I don’t feel up to an interrogation.”

“We didn’t mean to make you feel that way, Klaus,” Allison says, her hand falling to her side as Klaus stands up.

“Yeah,” says Luther, “I’m sorry.”

Klaus waves them off, and starts heading towards the door. “You coming, Benny?”

Ben follows.

* * *

Klaus clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, even to him, but Ben can’t get it off his mind. He has his theories, certainly, but he needs some definitive answers. The two of them are hiding from their siblings in the spare room. Klaus is carefully ignoring the loudly lamenting ghost that is stood in the corner, facing the wall. Ben follows his lead. They’ve both learned how to hear each other over the noise.

Ben tries to tell Klaus what their brothers and sisters were talking about before Klaus arrived, but Klaus doesn’t seem to be listening. Instead he talks about some knitting patterns he found in some old magazine that he wants to try out, even though he hasn’t quite managed to grasp the basics of the craft yet. 

Klaus wants to be able to make jumpers for the whole family by the end of the year. It’s a lofty goal, but it’s nice to see Klaus planning for the future and being excited about it. So Ben nods and makes suggestions for colour schemes and designs. Klaus is quite enamoured with the idea of mustard yellow for Diego, to offset all the black in his wardrobe.

Ben watches Klaus struggle with the needles, squinting at the magazine before looking back at his own work and frowning. He keeps dropping stitches, having to redo almost everything. It should be incredibly frustrating to watch, but Ben has never seen Klaus so focused on anything other than his next high before. It’s refreshing.

After a while, Ben says what he’s been ruminating on for the last several hours. “I think you should spend some time with the others.”

Klaus slowly puts down his needles, and looks up at him. “Why?”

Ben sighs. “Because you’re isolating yourself. You need to spend some time with the living. It’s not healthy, you being around the dead all the time.”

Klaus snorts inelegantly, pushing his work aside and resting his elbows on his crossed legs. “When have I ever cared about healthy, Benny boy? If that little bitch of a God wanted me to spend time with the living, why give me the powers I have?”

Ben carefully chooses his next words. “I think the reason that creature found it so easy to attach itself to you is because your connection with the mortal world is so tenuous,” he says, meeting Klaus’s eyes. There are other reasons, certainly, but this is one Klaus can fix himself. The others… well, Ben will have to find a way.

“I think you have Daddy dearest to thank for that. He was the one who pushed me into the arms of the dead.”

“No,” says Ben, and sees betrayal and upset flash through Klaus eyes. His stomach twists in what he hopes is guilt, and not the Eldritch angry that he hurt what they think belongs to them. Ben takes a deep breath, might as well dive in head first. “You’ve come such a long way, Klaus. You’re sober, you can control your powers now better than ever.” Wailing ghost in the corner notwithstanding. “But you have to embrace life, and _the living_, more. I think not doing so is making you vulnerable to… beings from other dimensions that see you as an open doorway.”

Klaus doesn’t say anything for a moment, looking halfway between tears and anger. His jaw works until he is finally able to control his voice. “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I have,” Ben says, “even before all this happened.”

Klaus nods. His gaze flickers past Ben to the ghost in the corner, then down at a spot on the floor, sightless. He swallows. “I-” He stops, and Ben waits. “When I’m with them, I don’t… feel like I’m _with them_, y’know?” He blinks, struggling. “I mean, I love them, and I want them to be happy, but I’m always aware that I’m not _like_ them. I don’t feel like I belong with them. With anyone, really. Except you.”

Finally, he looks up at Ben, helpless. Ben’s heart aches for him. He hesitates before crawling across the bed, afraid only for a second that his arms will go through Klaus as he wraps them around his brother. They don’t, thankfully, and Klaus tucks his face into Ben’s neck and shakes. Ben holds him so tightly it must be uncomfortable, but Klaus doesn’t complain. He can feel the Eldritch trying to emerge once more, but he forces them back. This time, he wants to hold his brother alone.

“I know,” Ben finds himself saying, “I know how you feel, I do.”

But he is dead, and Klaus is still alive. It shouldn’t be this way.

After a while, there is a quiet knock at the door. Klaus doesn’t respond, so Ben speaks. “Come in.”

There’s a slight hesitation, and then the door opens. Luther pops his head in, as has apparently become his way before entering a room, always unsure. “Oh, hey Ben,” he says, coming into the room. He’s holding a cup and saucer that look comically small in his hands.

“Hey,” Ben says, smiling.

“I just brought Klaus some tea. I didn’t bring you any, I’m sorry.” 

“That’s okay,” Ben says, “you weren’t to know I was, uh, present.”

Luther nods. “It’s good to see you again.” He edges into the room. “Klaus?”

Klaus sniffles wetly against the collar of Ben’s jacket and turns his head a little to face Luther. “What kind of tea is it?”

“Chamomile,” says Luther, looking encouraged. “I think you said you liked that one?”

Klaus nods, straightening up a little. Ben’s arms fall from around him. He stands, watching as Klaus follows him with his eyes, looking stricken at their separation. Ben smiles at him, and motions for Luther to come forward.

Luther comes to the bed and hands Klaus the tea. Klaus breathes the steam in while Luther hovers, ready to make he retreat once more. “Sit down,” Ben says softly. Luther obeys and the bed dips a little under his weight. Klaus has to grip his teacup to stop the tea from spilling over.

“Sorry,” says Luther, with an awkward grin.

Klaus chuckles and takes a sip. “That’s okay. Y’know someone once suggested I took up ballet to help with my clumsiness. Maybe we should start together. You’d look great in a leotard.”

“You’d look great in a tutu,” says Luther, then immediately looks worried, like he might have offended Klaus. Ben nearly snorts. Klaus is not easily offended.

“Wouldn’t I just?” Klaus exclaims. “We should definitely do it.”

Ben smiles at them. He turns and fades from the room, from that dimension. He has somewhere to be.

* * *

He has been to this strange, peaceful realm twice now. The first time, when he first died. Shaken, frightened, and new to death, he had woken up in this muted, illogical reality and felt peace for the first time in seventeen years. _She_ had approached him and offered to guide him through to the other side. 

He had never known temptation like it. The urge to be nothing.

He had turned her down. _I can’t,_ he’d said, _my family need me._ She’d shrugged and called him an idiot, said if he changed his mind – and he would – then he should come back.

He did, six years later, after seeing Klaus make wrong decision after wrong decision. After seeing him throw away every chance at happiness, poison his body with every illegal substance he could find, continue to go back to people who hurt him over and over, OD time and time again and laugh at Ben’s concerns.

_I can’t do this anymore,_ Ben had said to him, and he had come here. She didn’t meet him straight away that time. He’d had to wait, walk down the peaceful country lane, listen to the sounds that weren’t quite right, that didn’t quite make sense, but were peaceful nonetheless. He had lain down in the grass and looked up at the grey cloudless sky. He thought of nothing, because that was something you could do here.

He imagined what it would be like to feel this at peace all the time.

He had fallen asleep, and dreamed of Klaus, lying unconscious in an alleyway, sick dribbled down his chin, fingertips blue. He woke with a start and found her looking down at him.

_Are you okay?_ she asked. Curious, but not concerned.

_No,_ he’d replied.

_Oh,_ she’d said. _You’re not staying again, are you?_

He’d stood up, looked at her apologetically. _No, I’m sorry._

She’d shrugged. _Quite indecisive, aren’t you?_

_Not usually,_ he’d said. _But someone needs me._

He’d left, then, and hadn’t come back. Until now.

She isn’t here, yet. She probably only meets souls straight away when they come here for the first time. He suspects it might be a power trip, making him wait. He sets off down the lane, holding out his hand to brush against the long grass at the edge of the road. The wind rustles through the trees and bees buzz happily from flower to flower.

There’s something artificial about it. Like someone has very carefully designed a calming environment. There’s even a soothing aroma in the air, subtle and almost natural, but without the unpredictability of true naturalness.

He doesn’t stop this time, just continues to walk down the track until he comes across a sweet little cottage straight out of a fairy tale. He spots her in the garden, watering some already blooming flowers with an old-fashioned watering can.

He rolls his eyes at the triteness of it all. She doesn’t look up at him as he approaches the garden, and he doesn’t bother to announce his arrival. She knows he’s here.

“You know, this isn’t a holiday resort,” she says, a little irritably. “You can’t just pop in and out whenever you please.”

“Are you going to turn me away?”

She finally looks up at him, narrowing her eyes. “You’re not staying anyway. I don’t see why I should bother even talking to you.”

Ben shrugs. “Variety?”

She raises an eyebrow, adjusts her hat a little. “You think you’re any different to the billions of souls that have come through here already?”

“Am I not?”

She puts the watering can down and folds her arms. “You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”

Ben shrugs again. “Maybe.”

She purses her lips. “You’re lucky I like you.” She picks up the watering can and turns her back on him, walking down the garden path and putting it down outside the front entrance. There’s a pair of rain boots up against the wall. Ben wonders if she ever wears them or if they’re simply there for the aesthetic. 

She turns to face him. “Would you like to come in?”

He stares. He’s never gotten this far before. Something inside him is afraid that if he crosses the threshold into her house, he will never get back. He takes a fortifying breath. If she tries to stop him from leaving, he will take a leaf out of Klaus’s book and burn the place to the ground.

He walks up the garden path and follows her inside.

There are no electric lights inside. The place is artfully lit by the streams of grey sunlight coming through the spotless windows. They enter into the kitchen. Copper pans hang on the wall, there’s a vase of flowers on the windowsill behind the sink, and the smell of freshly cooked bread lingers in the air, although Ben can’t see any sign of baking.

She pours tea from a teapot into two china cups, not unlike the one Luther brought up for Klaus. She sits at the kitchen table, and motions for him to do the same.

“You have questions,” she says, taking a sip of her tea and looking at him over the rim of her cup.

He looks down at his own tea. “I do, yes. Although I’m not sure you’ll answer them.”

“Hmm.” He looks up at her, and she makes a ‘continue’ motion with Her hand.

“My brother, Klaus. A little while back, I think he died. And then he came back. But in between, he must have come here.”

Her mouth twists, like she’s tasting something sour. She doesn’t say anything, though, so he continues. “When I came here originally, I said I wanted to go back. And you let me. But I went back as a ghost. Klaus, he came back to life. He’s a living, breathing person. But he was dead.”

“What’s your point?” she asks, a little irritably. 

“My point is, how? How did you do that?”

She pulls a face. “What do you mean, _how did I do that_? What part of all-powerful are you struggling with?”

“But you can’t do that! Death doesn’t discriminate. It comes to us all. I thought that was the whole point!”

“I don’t usually,” she admits, “but there’s a first time for everything.”

Ben’s mind is spinning. “So, he was the first?”

“He has that dubious honour, yes.” 

Ben puts his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the table, trying to logically sort the information in his mind. He remembers something, Klaus’s words coming back to him. “He thought you were God.”

“It’s not uncommon. What is God but a human invention to make Death more palatable?” She pours herself more tea, reaches over to pour him some, and finds it still full. “Your tea’s getting cold.”

Ben stares at her. He never expected an argument with Death herself to be easy, but her sheer apathy stokes something emotional and human in him, something he hasn’t felt so strongly since he died. _Rage, rage against the dying of the light,_ he thinks wryly, before he stands and throws the teacup against the sink. There is a momentary sound of china smashing, and then it seems to dissolve into air. The pieces never hit the floor.

She looks at him steadily. Ben sits back down. “Have you quite finished?” she asks.

Ben gives a short, sharp nod. There is no use continuing his little temper tantrum. Once more, he tries to appeal to a human side she doesn’t possess. “He thinks he’s been kicked out of heaven. He doesn’t feel like he belongs with the living.”

She shakes her head and gives a musical laugh. “I wouldn’t worry about your brother. He may not be welcome here, but I think something else has already staked a claim.”

Her phrasing chills him. “What do you mean?”

She runs her finger along the inside of the teacup handle, purposely casual. “There _are_ dimensions other than Life and Death. You should know, you’re a portal to one.”

Ben frowns, not following. She laughs, and Ben would describe it as cruel, but she would probably say otherwise. Death is not cruel, Death just is.

She leans towards him, eyes sharp. He has never seen her this focused. “If your boy doesn’t belong with the living, and I don’t want him here, then maybe he should look into some alternatives.” She leans back, gestures breezily. “Have a chat with the creatures that live in your belly. I’m sure they will gladly take him off your hands.”

She smiles at the look he gives her, stands up, brushing imaginary crumbs off her dress. “You know, you’ve not been a very pleasant guest.”

She pushes forcefully, and Ben tumbles out her realm, landing soundlessly back in the dimension of the living.

He sits up, two heartbeats thudding in his chest.

The Eldritch, he realises, as he gets to his feet. The Eldritch will take Klaus if Death doesn’t want him. 

Inside, the Eldritch hum their agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben makes a decision that neither Klaus nor the Eldritch agree with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter, which means this particular story in the series is complete. Not gonna lie, I'm pretty nervous about this one. It was a tough one to write. Still, I hope you enjoy!

“What exactly is it you want to know?” Five asks, looking for all the world like a mad scientist, with a scalpel in one hand, and oily monster blood smeared across his cheek.

“Everything,” Ben says, looking down at the millipede-like monstrosity that is still making their kitchen uninhabitable for anyone without a cast iron stomach. This includes all of their siblings, including Klaus, unfortunately. 

Which is why Ben is leaning against the kitchen sink, watching Five work, while Klaus is sat in the doorway leading out to the courtyard, chain smoking. Ben can’t quite see him from here, and it makes him antsy. He tried to get Diego to keep an eye on his brother, make sure nothing sneaks into him while Ben isn’t watching, but both Klaus and Diego protested that Klaus isn’t a child, and is perfectly capable of being alone whilst manifesting his dead brother.

Ben had tried to silently communicate to Diego that he should stay because Klaus was particularly vulnerable to otherworldly attacks at the moment, but Diego is being particularly obtuse. The pain in his thigh is making him crankier than usual. His martyr of a brother doesn’t want Klaus to see him in pain, because he doesn’t want Klaus to feel guilty. Ben can’t roll his eyes hard enough at the heroics of his siblings sometimes.

So, Klaus sits in the doorway, pointedly not looking at the creature that called his body home not so long ago. Ben wants to protect him from those memories, but he also wants to find out more about this creature. What it is, where it comes from.

“Do you think it’s the same as the monster inside me?” Ben asks, as Five pulls apart two segments of the creature’s body with a gooey sort of creaking noise. The exaggerated retching coming from the doorway suggests that the sound is just as vivid to Klaus.

“It’s hard to say,” Five says, peering in at the inner structure that has been revealed. Ben has a look, too, morbidly fascinated. “I’ve never been able to take a sample from them. And now that you’re, well, dead, it’ll be even harder.” He gives Ben a sympathetic look, then brightens. “Find me a dead one of those and I’ll be happy to dissect it for you.”

Ben doesn’t doubt it. The Eldritch seem less than happy at the prospect. 

“I mean,” Five continues, sticking a gloved finger between the segments and pulling out some stringy innards. They both lean in to take a good look. “Just speaking as a casual observer. If we are to assume that this creature comes from the same place your Eldritch monsters do, I would place your little friend as some kind of apex predator like a killer whale or something similar; and this little guy is probably some sort of parasite, like a hookworm.” 

“Pretty dangerous for a hookworm,” Klaus’s voice floats in from the doorway.

“Well parasites are,” Five explains cheerfully. “Predators like sharks and lions let you know what they are upfront. Parasites will wriggle their way in and do all their damage before you even realise something’s wrong.”

“Bit like you, then,” Ben hears Klaus mutter. He glances at Five, but his little older brother is already immersed back in the parasite’s innards.

“But how did it get to Klaus?” Ben presses. “We’re both portals, right? Klaus is a portal for the dead, I’m a portal for the Eldritch. So why did it go to him and not to me?”

“He was conjuring you when it came through,” Five says, shrugging. “The creature came from some monster dimension through you, and you came through him. Seems simple enough to me.”

It _is_ simple enough. Ben has been having similar thoughts himself, and hearing Five state it like it’s obvious only confirms his worst fears. Ben brought that thing along. It attached itself to his brother when Ben was passing through him into the realm of the living. It’s his fault.

He takes a couple of steps back, leans back against the sink. Five doesn’t notice the mini breakdown he’s having, so engrossed is he in taking the parasite apart. Ben glances over to where he can see a sliver of the back of Klaus’s head through the doorway. Guilt eats at him once more.

He goes over to the doorway, sits down beside Klaus, who is staring at the oak tree, cigarette held loosely between his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Ben says.

Klaus takes a deep drag of his cigarette, before tapping the ash onto the ground. “You apologise too much.”

“I have a lot to apologise for.”

Klaus snorts. “Why? Because we both have shitty powers? We’ve known that since we were five years old.”

Ben can’t disagree with that. “It seems like the more we learn about them, the shittier they get.”

“Amen to that.” Klaus holds out his cigarette to Ben, who declines with a wave of his hand. They sit in silence, listening to the squelching, cracking sounds coming from the kitchen. Klaus giggles. “Fuck our lives.”

“And our deaths,” Ben says, thinking of that little bitch on the bicycle. 

Klaus rests his head against Ben’s shoulder. “Don’t ever leave me, Benny.”

Ben says nothing.

* * *

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. The siblings eat takeaway in the living room and watch a movie, whilst Ben watches them.

Klaus falls asleep halfway through, and sleepily lets Luther guide him upstairs to his bedroom once the movie has finished. He curls up in his bed like a cat, and falls back asleep instantly. Ben watches until he can hear all the others go to bed, then he gets up.

Ben has never thought of himself as a restless spirit. He chose to return to the dimension of the living as a ghost; he had a mission. Not Reginald’s this time, but his own. 

Now he finds himself wandering the house at night. At first, he convinces himself that he is merely checking up on his siblings, but in truth it is because being near them, even near Klaus, is starting to make his skin prickle. 

He can feel the Eldritch churning his stomach, their restlessness making him nauseous. He has not felt them this intensely since before he died. The world is more vivid, his response to it more forceful. He feels anger more acutely, feels want more intensely.

Since dying, his emotions have been muted, and it had worried him before, made him fear he was becoming less human. Now he longs to get that numbness back; the bloodlust and anger that has replaced it are too strong for him. He remembers Klaus tearing through his room, looking for drugs, wishing to be numb again. He thinks he might understand that urge a little better now.

It feels like his humanity is being stripped away, piece by piece, Death and the Eldritch taking and taking from him until there is nothing of the old Ben left. Only the bitterness of death and the primal rage of the monsters.

Ben stops in the middle of the landing and sinks into a crouch, pressing his hands to his face. He screws up his eyes, and wishes for peace. The Eldritch are restless, hungry for blood.

He doesn’t know how long he huddles there with his head in his hands, but he is interrupted from his reverie by the sound of someone screaming.

Klaus.

Ben races through walls to reach Klaus’s room. He feels the Eldritch rearing up in his stomach, ready to burst through and destroy anyone _or anything_ threatening their new little obsession.

Ben falls through the wall into Klaus’s room, on high alert. His blood sings.

The tentacles break free from his stomach. They fill the room, tense and searching for the threat.

But there is none. Klaus is tangled up in his bed covers, forehead shining with sweat, moaning in fear. He is having a nightmare.

Ben tries to reel the Eldritch back in, but they will not be controlled.

Klaus suddenly opens his eyes and they widen as he spots Ben and the tentacles. He scrambles back, pressing his back against the wall. “Jesus, Ben. What are you doing?” 

Klaus has never looked at him in fear before. He was the only one who didn’t. _Was._

Ben tries to will the Eldritch back. It refuses, creeping towards Klaus instead, ostensibly checking for injuries. Klaus shrinks back, trying to flatten himself against the wall. Ben’s heart breaks. 

Something must show on his face because Klaus looks up and his face slackens. “I’m sorry,” he says, as though he is the one pinning his brother to the wall with his monstrous tentacles. “I was having a nightmare, about that creature. I was somewhere… horrible, and it was just a shock to wake up to them, okay? I’m not afraid of you. I promise.”

“Maybe you should be,” Ben says, desolately. The tentacles, seeming convinced that Klaus is unharmed and unthreatened, creep back, before disappearing into Ben’s stomach. “I’m losing control of them.”

Klaus crawls forward a little, hands held up in a conciliatory manner. “Hey, no. Maybe you just need some refresher training. You and me, learning to control our powers together again!”

Ben shakes his head. “I don’t think this is about learning to control powers. I think they’re stronger than me and I’m putting you all in danger.”

“You won’t hurt us, Benny. You saved us, remember?”

Klaus’s conviction in Ben’s ability to control the monsters almost makes him laugh.

Ben folds his arms, not sure if he’s trying to protect himself or Klaus. “You remember how it felt, having something inhuman and violent inside you? How helpless you felt, how you were scared that you might hurt someone?” 

Klaus nods, the slightest movement. 

“That’s how I felt all the time, when I was alive. But when I died, things got better. I couldn’t hurt anyone, because I couldn’t touch anyone. And now, all those old fears have come rushing back. Because I can hurt people again, through you. These creatures can smell the blood of the living, and they’re hungry for it. When you manifest me, I’m endangering everyone, and it scares me.”

Klaus’s mouth works silently, his eyes wide and haunted. Ben needs to make him understand, but it doesn’t make hurting him like this any easier. 

Since Ben died, it’s been almost impossible for the Eldritch to enter the dimension of the living. But Klaus is the missing part of the equation. The Eldritch have realised that they need both of them to help satiate their thirst for blood, and Ben can feel their grasp tightening around him and Klaus even now.

A decision has to be made. 

He refuses to let the Eldritch claim Klaus as one of their own, refuses to let them make him part of their endless campaign for blood and violence. He will cut them off at the source. He will remove himself from the equation.

“I think I need to go, Klaus.”

Klaus’s gaze snaps up to him, dread in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Ben feels strangely at peace with his decision, he has protected Klaus by staying at his side, and now it’s time to protect him by leaving it. “You’ve come so far; I’m so proud of you, Klaus,” he says. “I love you. Let me do this for you.”

“No!” says Klaus, lurching forward, echoing the sentiments of the Eldritch, who seem to have realised what he intends to do. He can feel their rage inside him, bubbling up and ready to erupt. He won’t give them the satisfaction.

It will be easier, like ripping off a band aid, instead of the long, drawn-out process of preparing Klaus and their siblings for his leaving.

Quick and painless. Everything his death wasn’t.

Ben closes his eyes, and feels his stomach erupt.

Ben screams.

Klaus is screaming, too, screaming Ben’s name. But Ben can’t see him because tentacles fill his field of vision. He feels like he is being ripped open. He feels like he is dying all over again. He feels pain like he hasn’t experienced since that fateful moment of his death.

The tentacles crowd around him, and everything goes black.

* * *

Ben opens his eyes. He is lying face down in the dirt.

He doesn’t move for a minute, still reeling from the pain. It is gone now, but its echo remains.

Something is missing.

He rolls onto his back. He can barely see ten feet above him. He is surrounded by a soupy yellow fog. He puts a hand on his stomach. 

The Eldritch. They’re gone. 

He lies there dazed for a moment, wondering if this is what other people feel like all the time. Nothing inside them but blood and innards. He would cry, if he still could.

But the daze wears off quickly. If he can’t feel the Eldritch, then that must mean they’re somewhere else. Or he is. He sits up, looks around him. He can’t see very far ahead, but the ground is rough, covered in sharp black volcanic rocks. Where is he? 

There’s a noise an unknown distance from him, somewhere between a screech and a howl. Ben scrambles to his feet, squinting as he tries to see through the fog. He stands still, and listens. There is a deadly, unnatural silence for several long seconds. Ben doesn’t breathe.

A strained groan comes from somewhere behind him, and he whirls round. He can hear the laboured breathing of something much bigger than him, huffing and gasping. There’s the sound of dislodged stones crunching beneath heavy feet. Ben waits, waits for something to come through the fog, realising he would see it only when it was stood right in front of him.

He backs up, stumbling a little on the uneven ground. There’s another groan, and it echoes around him. He turns and heads in the opposite direction, not quite a run – he’s too afraid to barrel headfirst into something even worse. He keeps an eye on the ground as he moves, not wanting it to disappear beneath him. He can still hear the grunting, gasping creature, but it doesn’t seem to be gaining on him at any great speed. Perhaps it’s not following him. 

He doesn’t fancy hanging around to find out.

As he crosses more ground, the fog is starts to thin. The ground is becoming more slippery, as well, the stones coated in something wet and slimy. Up ahead of him, he sees the shape of rocks, dark against the dull light of the sky. 

He quickens his pace until he emerges fully into the clear air. He looks back at the fog, but can’t see into it. Whatever he heard is still in there somewhere.

Ben turns his attention to what’s ahead of him. Just in time to see something spindly and long-legged crawl over the top of the outcrop of rocks. It skitters across the rockface, barely visible but clicking menacingly. Ben watches as it disappears between the rocks, and he suppresses a full body shiver.

He rubs at the back of his neck, almost unconsciously, before he realises what he’s doing and hopes there’s not some horribly creepy-crawly scuttling into his hairline.

The rocks form a natural wall for as long as Ben can see. He considers walking along it until he finds a more accommodating environment, but logically he knows the most obvious direction is ahead. He takes a few unnecessary but fortifying breaths, and clenches his fists. 

He steps towards the rocks, finds a handhold a little way up, and grips it. He foot comes up and fumbles against the rocks until he finds a foothold and hooks in, pulling himself up. He hopes he doesn’t meet another of those long-legged creatures. Or something worse.

It’s slow-going, hard work, and Ben’s hands and clothes are filthy with something pale and sticky that the rocks are covered in. He can hear the scuttle of thousands of tiny legs, and the rustle of fine wings, both too close for comfort. He doesn’t look; he doesn’t want to know.

When he reaches the top, he is shaking. It can’t be from exhaustion, because he doesn’t get tired any more. He looks at what lies beyond the rocks. The land slopes downwards, the volcanic stone thinning to rough black sand as it reaches the edge of a murky body of water. 

He clambers over the ridge, and starts to make a clumsy descent, slipping the final few feet until he lands heavily. The sand shifts beneath his feet as he walks down the slope. He can feel eyes on him, watching from the shadows and the shelter of the rocks. He glances around but sees nothing.

He goes to the water’s edge. The surface is sheer and oily. He can make out dark shapes moving beneath it, but little else. Across the water, the far shore is covered in thick, tangled roots. Ben can see no tree, only the roots, like mummified tentacles.

He swallows. “I’m here,” he calls, his every instinct telling him to keep his voice down when there are so many unknown creatures watching him. Ben is used to being a predator, or at least the host for one. Now he feels strangely vulnerable, almost lost. “Are you going to tell me why you’ve brought me here?”

There is a rumbling sound coming from deep within the water. Ben watches the oily surface tremble and ripple outwards. The dark shapes beneath the water grow bigger and darker.

Tentacles break the surface first, thicker than Ben’s body and a deep maroon in colour. They glide across the water and bury themselves into the black sand, getting a firm grip in order to heave up an enormous body.

Ben is not prepared for how big the Horror is in person.

It crashes through the surface of the water, dripping and shuddering. It is vaguely octopus-like in shape, although its skin is craggy and ancient, appears rough to the touch. Its eyes are long and thin, and change from milky white to black to red as it adjusts to the air. Openings that might be gills run down the sides of its great head, gaping and snapping, expelling steam into the air. 

There is an inhuman roar that vibrates through the ground Ben is standing on, echoing off the wall of rocks behind him. He can hear the skittering and frightened shrieks of lesser monsters as they try to get away from the predator. He’s half tempted to join them, but he’s had this thing using his body as its own personal portal for the last thirty years. If he’s honest, it’s less terrifying in front of him than it is within him.

He thinks he might be wrong about that as the Horror draws its front tentacles up to reveal a huge mouth, lined with circles of razor-sharp teeth as long as Ben’s arm. Ben can see all the way to the back of its throat; he can make out hooks in the flesh there, presumably designed to tear its prey apart before it swallows it.

Ben stands frozen, old fear returning in full force. The Horror’s eyes change again, and Ben can feel himself being appraised. The creature makes no move to speak, Ben isn’t sure if it is capable. But it brought him here for a reason, and he’ll be damned if it doesn’t tell him why.

“Do you speak?”

The Horror shifts, great body moving heavily. Its voice is deep and guttural, resounding with a thousand years of life, and it doesn’t come from its horrific mouth, but is spoken directly into Ben’s mind.

_I do._

Ben jerks back at the invasion, clutching his head as he adjusts to the new sensation. The Eldritch had communicated with him before, but usually only in urges and emotions, never so directly.

Shaking his head to rid it of the murkiness the Horror’s voice brought, Ben pushes. “Why have you brought me here?”

_You sought to leave us._

His anticipated peace seems like a dream now. “So what?” he says, with more bravery than he feels. “That’s my right.”

There is a rumbling that he recognises. The Horror is angry. _No, it is not._

Ben bristles, his own anger not quite as impressive as the Horror’s, but he likes to think it is just as formidable. “Yes, it is. I should have done it thirteen years ago. But I stayed, I gave you more time.”

_We were dormant. We could not reach that world through you. Until the other one brought us through._

Ben winces at the mention of Klaus. 

The Horror is not finished. _We tasted the blood of the living once more and we will not go without again._

Ben takes a step closer to the edge of the water, so it laps against his boots. “What are you going to do?” he taunts. “You lose either way. You can’t kill me, I’m already dead. If I go back there, I will cross over to Death’s dimension and the portal inside me will be lost forever. If you keep me here you won’t taste the blood of the living again.”

_The other one,_ the creature says, voice like thunder on the sea.

“Klaus is a portal for the dead, not for the monsters.” He hopes he’s right about this, he really does.

_A portal once opened can be turned in any direction._

Ben’s heart sinks. He doesn’t know enough to argue. Reginald had been more interested in the uses of his ‘power’ in combat rather than the theory behind it. He curses the old bastard for continuing to make things difficult for him even when they’re both dead. 

“That’s not true,” he says, in a childish need for it not to be true. “Klaus isn’t able to conjure beings from this dimension. That creature came to him through me.”

_Then why are you saturated in his energy?_

Ben frowns, not understanding. Then he looks down at himself. His body is covered in a pale blue light, pulsing softly. He jerks his head up to the Eldritch monster. “What is this?”

_He is trying to bring you back. He is strong._

This is… Klaus? Klaus has the power to reach into the monster dimension and bring Ben back? Ben shakes his head. “He is conjuring me, because I’m dead. The dimension is irrelevant.”

_But you are not in Death’s dimension. You are in mine._

The blue light around him pulses and brightens, and Ben starts to panic. Klaus, in his foolish bravery, is only making himself more desirable to the Eldritch.

_He will return you to his dimension, you can choose to move on, if you please. We will take him as our own, our portal to the dimension of the living._

“No,” Ben says harshly. “You will not put him through what you put me through.”

_We made you strong._

“You made me afraid!”

The great creature shifts, the tentacles dislodge themselves from their grip, and the Horror pulls itself forward, so close Ben can see the mangled half-eaten corpses of some lesser monsters stuck between its teeth. He grimaces, tries not to flinch away from the smell of blood and death on the creature’s breath.

_We gave you power, and we will give it again, in exchange for your cooperation._

Ben shakes his head. “I don’t want power. I just want,” he laughs at his own naiveté, “to be happy.”

The voice is silent, the concept of happiness alien to an Eldritch monster.

_You are foolish and human. But you could be master of the dimensions. Let us work together, let us feed upon your enemies. In return we will protect you, and the other portal._

Ben closes his eyes. “You won’t hurt him,” he says. “You won’t let one of your creatures touch him again.”

_We will tear apart anything that tries._

Ben nods, just as the blue light flares so brightly that it illuminates the Horror eerily. Ben can see its blood vessels, like spiderwebs.

As he is pulled from the Eldritch dimension, he feels something crawl up his back, lock onto his neck. 

* * *

He is falling through space, and he lands back on Klaus’s floor, winded and breathless. He glances up to see Klaus kneeling next to him, blue light around his fists dimming but not disappearing. Ben sits up and feels whatever was locked onto his neck detach itself and slither away, out of sight.

Klaus reaches forward with trembling blue-lit hands, chest heaving with exhaustion. He grips Ben’s arm tightly. Ben meets his eyes, finds his own fear and relief reflected in them. Klaus’s voice is barely a whisper. “Something else came through, didn’t it?”

Ben looks down at the white-knuckled hands that still have a bruising grip on his arm and feels strangely calm. “Yeah.”

“What was it?”

“Insurance.”

He looks back up at Klaus to see confusion written all over his face. He sighs, and wonders how he ever thought he could leave him. The universe has bound them together through something stronger than blood, and he is a fool for thinking he go against its will.

“Insurance for what?” Klaus asks.

“To make sure I don’t try to leave again.”

Klaus tries to hide the hopeful look on his face, but fails miserably. “You’re staying?”

He and Klaus tread the line between the dimensions and don’t belong to any. Ben remembers two little boys whispering to each other in the dead of night, clutching hands and swearing that they two would always be together. It was Ben and Klaus against their father, the ghosts, and the monsters. At the time, they hadn’t realised their childish promises were quite so literal. Now it’s Ben and Klaus against the universe, against Heaven and Hell, against Death and the Eldritch.

“I’m staying,” Ben repeats. “I’m with you ‘til the end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if it's clear or not, but I was using the Eldritch as a collective noun for the monsters that come through Ben's belly. I'm running on the assumption that multiple monsters can come through, we just happen to see the tentacled monster the most. I have distinguished that particular monster as the Horror. It's not its official name, just what Ben has decided to call it. Please use your imagination for a suitable Lovecraftian name for that one.
> 
> I hope there are people out there who enjoy this, I really enjoyed writing it, even when it was hard. If you did, please kudos or comment, it makes me so happy!

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Ben _does_ just coolly cite Hamilton lyrics when arguing with Death. Wouldn't you?
> 
> Stay tuned for more sibling goodness, and Ben taking on more ancient all-powerful beings.
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos give me life and make me smile every time I see them in my inbox.


End file.
